


Compare It With The High I Get From You

by WldCatSprStr_14



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WldCatSprStr_14/pseuds/WldCatSprStr_14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Unbeta'd. Written for Day 25 of the <span><a href="http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/"><b>adventchallenge</b>.</a></span>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Compare It With The High I Get From You

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written for Day 25 of the [](http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/profile)[**adventchallenge**.](http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com/).

"Happy Christmas, Merlin."

Gwaine winces at the sound of his own voice, a sudden loudness in the still dark of the bedroom that he shares with Merlin. All the guests have gone and though it looks like a disaster area, the apartment is dark and peaceful. Gwaine has just come out of the bathroom and settled into bed beside Merlin, who is passed out facedown in the sheets. Merlin is snoring in that slight fretful way that Gwaine adores and that Merlin vehemently denies. Propping himself up against a pillow, Gwaine looks down at the man sleeping beside him and wonders where he would be right now if they'd hadn't found each other.

The apartment they live in now is a long way from the shithole where Gwaine had been squatting the first time he laid eyes on Merlin. Gwaine had been out trying to scrounge up some money for a drink, something to warm his blood and take away the chill of the rain and hopefully take his misery with it, when he'd spotted Merlin in a crowded tube station. Open-face, cheery, and completely unaware that his wallet was hanging out of his pocket. Just the kind of mark that Gwaine was looking for. Gwaine had swiped his wallet and had just been about to disappear into the crowd with it when he was yanked backwards by the collar of his ratty jacket and found himself face to face with the man that Merlin had been standing next to. The blond had looked just about ready to beat him senseless when Merlin intervened.

 _"Calm down, Arthur. Your Knight Complex is showing."_

And then Merlin had turned those bright blue eyes on Gwaine.

 _"Hey, you alright, mate? You know, all you had to do was ask."_

Several hasty apologies and a few beaming smiles later, Gwaine had found himself sitting in a pub across from Merlin and Arthur-- _"I'm not leaving you alone with him, Merlin! What if he murders you?!"_ \--nursing a pint and trading life stories. He'd learned that Merlin and Arthur were roommates and had been on their way to pick up groceries for a Halloween party that they were throwing at their apartment. He'd learned that Arthur's sister was apparently the devil, that Merlin had no siblings but had a fairly loopy uncle named Drago, that Merlin worked in a shelter for at-risk youth and that he somehow managed to be best friends with Arthur even though the blond was an arse who happened to be richer than Gwaine was poor. Throughout the whole thing, Gwaine had been captivated by Merlin's honesty and his heart and had known for sure that it wouldn't be the last time he'd be seeing him.

Fast-forward two years, through referrals and counseling, through coffee dates with Merlin and footie matches with Arthur and his mates, through Gwaine's first month sober and his first _real_ apartment in years, through his various relapses and all the ugly fights that left Merlin in tears and Gwaine feeling like a world-class arse, through their first kiss and Gwaine's last group meeting, and you had them now. Happy and somewhat normal and _together_ in spite of all the shit. Hosting a Christmas party for _their_ friends and passing out in _their_ bed and Gwaine has to wonder how he could have ever thought that being drunk was the best feeling there was because _this_ is so much better than that could ever be.

Beside him, Merlin stirs in his sleep and shuffles closer, throwing a hand over Gwaine's lap. Gwaine lets his fingers play in the soft curls at Merlin's nape and shakes his head in wonder at how much he's gained from trying to pick one pocket on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

~FIN~


End file.
